


Every Hello and One More Goodbye

by leonardJamesAkaar



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Castiel Loves Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester Loves Castiel, Dying Dean Winchester, Episode: s15e18 Despair - Castiel's Confession Scene, Episode: s15e20 Carry On - Barn Scene, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, Fix-It of Sorts, Heaven, Inner Dialogue, POV Dean Winchester, Sad with a Happy Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-11
Updated: 2021-01-11
Packaged: 2021-03-15 22:40:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28696338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leonardJamesAkaar/pseuds/leonardJamesAkaar
Summary: It felt like the moment just between asleep and waking, where the world of dreams and reality blur, and everything looks and feels doused in a warm, hazy glow.But then the glow spoke, and it said the two words that woke every molecule of Dean’s being, that warmed him from head to toe. Two words that filled him with hope and ecstasy and wonder and love, two words that Dean thought he would never have the privilege of ever hearing again.“Hello, Dean.”
Relationships: Castiel & Dean Winchester, Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 2
Kudos: 38





	Every Hello and One More Goodbye

**Author's Note:**

> I would like to acknowledge that I despise the fact that Dean died in the finale and most of the time I just pretend that it simply does not exist, but I had the idea for this fic last night so I had to write it.

Dean hadn’t thought that this would be the day. 

Not this hunt. Not this barn. Not before he’d even had a chance to use his throwing stars.

He almost laughed at the thought, but couldn’t quite draw the breath he needed. He was on death’s door and thinking about his throwing stars. Stupid. He’d thought about other things too, mostly stupid things like what he ate for breakfast this morning (his last meal, he realized) and where he left Miracle’s leash after taking him for a walk, (when was the last time he’d taken Miracle for a walk?) and did he remember to reset his alarm clock this morning (It doesn’t matter) and did he finish filling out that job application form on his desk and did he take his clean clothes out of the dryer last night (it won’t matter, it won’t matter) _anddidheremembertofixtheleakypipeunderhisbathroomsinkanddidheletMiracleoutsidebeforetheyleftanddid… and… did he…_

His mind, previously whirling a mile a minute began to cloud and his thoughts began to slow.

_Did… he…_

His head all of the sudden felt far too heavy for him to hold up and he let it slump to Sam’s shoulder. 

Sam. 

Sam was here with him. 

They’d said their goodbyes.

Sam promised not to bring him back.

He promised to keep on living. 

Sam told him it’s okay.

He can go now.

It’s okay. 

His eyelids grew heavy, so heavy that simply holding them open became a monumental task, so he let them droop closed, a single tear escaping from under one. He felt tired, so very tired, but he was afraid to let himself sleep, because it wasn’t sleep and he knew it. He wouldn’t wake in the morning to the sound of his alarm clock and warm, wet, good morning kisses from Miracle. This was it. Of all the times he’d thought it was his last night on Earth, this was it. Death was somehow different when it was unanticipated. Death was different when he wanted to live. 

He was afraid. He was afraid, he was so afraid. And it was a different kind of afraid; one that he hadn’t felt since that night with Billie and the Empty and… 

And Cas. 

_Cas._

Then the pain was gone. The fear was gone. The cold and the sharp and the raw taste of iron in his mouth was gone. (Was _he_ gone?)

He felt like he was floating, and he couldn’t tell which way was up and which was down, but he wasn’t moving. He was absolutely still. It felt like the moment just between asleep and waking, where the world of dreams and reality blur, and everything looks and feels doused in a warm, hazy glow. 

But then the glow spoke, and it said the two words that woke every molecule of Dean’s being, that warmed him from head to toe. Two words that filled him with hope and ecstasy and wonder and love, two words that Dean thought he would never have the privilege of ever hearing again. 

“Hello, Dean.”

And Dean’s eyes were open. They were open in an instant, drinking in the radiant sight of his beautiful angel, (is it okay for him to think of Cas as his angel?)

“Yes,” Cas answered sincerely, as if he’d heard everything Dean had been thinking. 

Dean realized where he was. He was still in the barn, the bodies of the vampires still sprawled out on the floor, Sam still next to Dean on the support beam, holding up his now lifeless body. Dean stood in the middle of the barn, looking over his body and Sam, who wasn’t moving. It was as if time had been frozen around Dean. He had died.

“Yes,” Cas repeated, smiling solemnly. 

Dean turned back to Cas, taking in the sight of him. He was different somehow. He stood a little taller and looked a little brighter, as if a weight he’d been carrying around for years had been lifted from his shoulders, but he was still Cas. The same Cas that Dean loved. 

But how could he have escaped the Empty? How could he be here? 

“I always come when you call,” Cas answered, his voice warm and filled with fondness, just like he’d said it all those years ago. His smile told Dean everything that he needed to hear. He held out his hand, offering it for Dean to take. 

Dean hesitantly placed his hand in Cas’s outstretched one, and when their fingers touched, it was like he could see inside of Cas’s soul. There was peace and light and color and warmth and happiness and so much love, all for Dean. 

It was really Cas. He was really here. 

Dean’s mind flew back to their last goodbye, and to Cas’s last words to him. He remembered Cas’s eyes, teary but peaceful, looking into him as he spoke his deepest truth. He remembered his own eyes, that were pleading, screaming, desperately trying to say everything that his mouth couldn’t, and his heart heavy with every goodbye that the two of them had ever said. (Far too many.) There was so much he needed to say to Cas, so much that he hadn’t gotten to say, and that he should have said years ago.

Cas only smiled and gave a small, warm laugh. “There will be plenty of time once we get to heaven, Dean.”

_Heaven_. 

Cas was taking him to heaven. 

Paradise. Reunion. Where they could live. Where they could _be_. No more goodbyes. 

“Heaven,” Cas affirmed with a nod, his hand still holding Dean’s.

Dean was never going to let go again.

“We’ll go when you’re ready,” Cas told him, without the slightest bit of impatience. He would wait ten thousand lifetimes for Dean. 

Dean looked back behind him at Sam, still frozen in that moment. He looked at himself, or rather his body, sleeping peacefully on Sam’s shoulder. He looked at the bodies of the vampires littering the floor, and the dark blood staining the blades of their now discarded machetes, and then back at Sam. 

Sam would be fine. He would be okay. He’d go out and grab the bull by its horns. He’d find a life for himself, or build one. He’d live long, die old, and he’d always keep fighting, just like he promised. And they’d see each other again. 

Dean turned back to Cas and nodded. “I’m ready.”

Then his angel led him by the hand, gripped him tight and raised him just as he’d done all those years ago, to heaven to say his hellos again. 


End file.
